


FSU

by SianneKirsty



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Porn with Feelings, Romantic Fluff, Shameless Smut, Sweet/Hot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28008054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SianneKirsty/pseuds/SianneKirsty
Summary: Sandor is a former basketball player turned coach after injury. Sansa is a brilliant Art Major turned online stalker - completely innocent, of course, but she has no shame when it comes to the real world either. Sandor still has scars but not on his face and Sansa thinks he is the most incredible person to walk this earth.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 34
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> A/N:
> 
> I know nothing about basketball. I know nothing about art. This is entirely AU and fictional - there is zero slow-burn in this story and I wrote this for my own benefit but I was thinking maybe someone else will get a kick out of it like I do. Lots of fluff, lots of smut, lots of hurt/comfort and I already have 76k of this written so hopefully I'm right and somebody will enjoy this world as much as I do. Honestly, I just like hurting Sandor but I do give him Sansa to try and fix it.

There's a protest on the steps of the library again, the Politics students bearing a flag pronouncing their distaste for Republicans. It makes me smile as I cross the path towards the art building; just the fact that they have something they feel so strongly about that they feel the need to demonstrate. I'm certain there's an element of their studies that requires them to stand in turn in view of all of the students of FSU with as much passion as possible and I'm sure they will all pass with flying colours as they are there on the daily. I have no particular affiliation with any of the political parties but I can understand their disgruntlement with the current President and needless to say, I won't be participating save perhaps for taking a flyer and leaving it in the art common area for others to see.

If I were protesting against a common cause in relation to my studies I'd hope others would do the same.

I pass by the sports block and gymnasium to the right of the library and I let my gaze wander towards the large entrance and the glass panes that expose the gym equipment within. I can't see anybody working out against the glass; it's a warm day, the jocks are more than likely all out back on the outdoor pitch practising their chosen sports or perhaps they are indoors doing the less practical elements.

It's not that I care as such – sport has never been my affinity. I can't run without my legs flailing and if I try to handle a ball it ends up directly where it isn't meant to be. I laugh to myself and shake my head, remembering all of the awkward high school moments where I had to pretend to at least try.

My calling has always been with art. I have a talent with a pencil and most other mediums, so much so that I managed to earn a full scholarship to FSU with all of my fees and expenses paid up front. It was – _is -_ a dream come true. I adore my studies here. My professors all excel in their field and I have learnt how to progress from an art student to an artist in a very short space of time.

When I'm not studying or completing graded pieces I have an online art store where I work on commission. I've drawn everything from pets to portraits of couples on their wedding days, and although I am entirely modest, I've never had dissatisfaction from my work. My professors all tell me that I'll be showcasing pieces in art galleries soon and whilst my confidence has grown in strides, I'm still the same Sansa Stark that I've always been.

Pale, awkward and everything that screams out _art student_. I have a tattoo of a paintbrush down my bicep and okay yeah, I may be cliché at times, but I'll be damned if I don't love every moment of it.

I'm almost at the art building when I see who I was scanning the other side of the campus for. The only reason any part of my mind wanders to sports or fitness.

Sandor Clegane.

He coaches the basketball team. Well, he's _one_ of the coaches. The team are high-flyers and whilst he apparently has the knowledge and commitment to take the team to victory, they don't need air support when it comes to the physical side of it all.

I first saw him during my induction week and it was plain that he wasn't a student but instead a member of FSU staff. He's in his thirties – thirty-six, to be precise. I looked him up. On numerous occasions.

Okay, I stalk him online. He has a twitter handle; CleganeFSU, and he's really good at updating regularly. He takes pictures of the University, pictures of the sunrise, sunset, onset of snowfall, budding flowers and falling leaves.

He has an eye for taking really pretty pictures and he's also hilarious. I'm kind of addicted to checking in online and I may or may not regularly reply to his tweets.

Okay, I do. I tweet him every day, and he tweets back occassionally, and I'm certain I'm addicted to our brief exchanges.

I'm certain I'm addicted to _him_.

Sandor Clegane is entirely unconventional. He's tall, _really_ tall. Over six foot three with broad, heavy-set shoulders and long dark hair that falls to the nape of his neck. He has piercing grey eyes and facial hair which he keeps long but neatly trimmed. He used to play basketball for FSU about fifteen years ago which is why he's still around, but he never made it professional although he was on the cusp.

He was injured in a cross-University cup. He damaged his right knee badly, dislocating his kneecap and shredding every ligament around it. It was a career-ending injury in any event, but the surgery he had didn't go to plan and after numerous attempts to repair it enough to regain functionality, it never worked. I read that he was in hospital and rehabilitation facilities for over two years and after doctors had tried everything they could, he admitted defeat and accepted that he was never playing ball again. As it would turn out, he would never walk properly again either.

I really knew far too much about him than I should. It's creepy to be such a stalker, I know that, but I can't help it. I literally can't.

I know it's weird to have a crush the way that I do - I'm an art student; you'd assume that I'd be fawning over fellow arty types or perhaps drama guys, but they never appeal to me. What has appealed to me for the last two years has been a huge basketball coach with a knee brace and a halting walk.

I'm early for class so it's perfectly reasonable that I take a seat on a nearby bench and keep my gaze firmly but hopefully inconspicuously on him. He's making his way towards the sports building with one of the basketball guys next to him. They are chatting to one another, his body turning to gesture and express whatever it is that he is saying. The distance is far too great to catch wind of anything being said, but I'm happy just watching.

He is wearing a grey zip-up sweater and a pair of long black shorts. His leg brace extends down to his calf and is very much visible above his black hi-top sneakers. The way he walks is interesting; the brace clearly keeps his knee from bending beyond a certain degree and it sets him into a limp but it's one that he has lived with for long enough for it to become familiar, and it doesn't look altogether uncomfortable though it must be very inconvenient in reality. Sometimes he writes on his twitter about bad days; he's written about knowing when the weather is going to turn by the ache in his knee, and once about how he'd expected medical advances to have led to repair by this point in his life.

I open up CleganeFSU and flick through his daily posts. There are some referring the upcoming games but I never reply to those, I don't want him to think I'm into basketball when I really couldn't even pretend to be. There is however a post that he'd uploaded only fifteen minutes ago of a cup of Starbucks coffee with the caption of: _the only way to start the day_.

It makes me smile and I hit reply, taking a few moments to think of a response that had a point before typing a vague affirmative of how coffee is the best, and a pointer for him to try the independent coffee house in the student village sometime.

I look up and he is almost out of view, but I know my day is going to be so much better just by the fact that I had seen him.

Art class passed by quickly, as it always did. I finished a page in my sketchbook drawing various perspective sketches of hands and fingers and by the time the end was called, I realised that I probably should have paid a little more attention to the teaching element than I did. It didn't matter; I've already read the subject books for the year, some twice over, so rarely do my professors say anything regarded as new information. I'm blessed with the ability to take everything in quickly which leaves me with far more time to do what I love the most which is drawing.

I'm working on a portrait back home of an older lady whom somebody is having commissioned for their father in memory of a relative. It's an enjoyable piece and even more special considering I know the connotations behind it. I'm eager to continue as the drawing is almost complete and if I set aside two or three hours today then it can set and then be posted tomorrow. I always get a buzz of excitement after posting out my work, partly because I want to know what the recipients think and there is always enjoyment to be had in the reviews that are posted, but also because it's satisfying to receive payment when I am only doing something that I love. Every commission is a chance to practice and refine my skills, and each one makes the work within my studies that much more attuned.

I see nobody of interest as I pass back through the campus to my house, and yes – when I say _nobody of interest_ I mean that there is no sight of Mr Clegane. I'm never quite sure how to think of him; Sandor? Mr Clegane? He certainly goes by simply Clegane or Coach, but I don't know if either of them sit quite right for how I imagine him.

Sandor.

Such an unusual name.

I think of him more as I unlock the door to my place. I wouldn't be able to share; I need quiet for my art and if there were girls shouting and screaming about the place, it would drive me crazy. Luckily my all-in scholarship bought me the small single-let just off campus so it was perfect.

I have an art room instead of a living area and it's well-lit with large windows and good lighting. With the sun still shining outside it illuminates the piece I am working on and I set down my bag and sit straight down at the easel.

I figure a couple of hours pass as I sit perfecting the pencil work and when I'm finally done and I've sprayed setting liquid over the page, almost three have passed. I feel so relaxed and accomplished as I pack everything away for another project. My phone is still in my bag and when I take it out I see that there are a number of new tweets from CleganeFSU, including a direct message.

I raise an eyebrow, that's a first, and when I click it there's a picture of another cup of coffee, this time from the independent shop I recommended.

I feel a swell of glee and type back instantly; _What did you think?_

It shows that he's typing back straight away too. _Gotta be honest...better than Starbucks._

_Be converted! Never go back!_

_It's a longer walk. Bad leg. I'll try and convert._

My eyes widen at the fact I'm having an actual conversation with the man himself. Not a _proper_ conversation, of course, but an online chat. That counts. He mentioned his leg too, as a reason not to be able to trek over to Romano's instead of Starbucks. Poor guy.

_Even if you swap it out a couple of times a week it helps the independent coffee chains. Glad you gave it a try. Match today?_

I don't care but the last thing I want is for the brief exchange to end.

_Aye, in an hour or so. You coming?_

_As we're being honest, I hate Basketball. All sports, actually._

There's no immediate reply and I grimace, hoping that I didn't just kill any inclination that he had to talk to me.

_I appreciate the honesty. Not quite sure why you follow me then – all I post is sport._

Phew. I smile and bite down on my lower lip. Time for more honest.

_I like the pictures you post. The campus looks really pretty early in the morning and after sunset._

_I see. Well, thank you. I never thought that anybody else actually wanted to see those – more for me, memories, y'know?_

_I comment sometimes!_

_I know you do. I've looked at your page – art student, right? You're really talented._

He managed to make me blush through the words he typed. We'd had the odd conversation flow, but nothing like this. I was starting to like him even more. He typed properly even whilst chatting casually, which was a huge positive, and he seemed nice.

_Thank you, yeah. I'm studying under Professor Collins at the moment._

_How's that going for you?_

_He's a talented artist in his own regard. It's a pleasure to be taught by somebody so experienced._

_By the look of your artwork, you don't need much teaching._

_Now you're just making me blush._

_Sorry, sweetheart. Just paying it forward. Thanks for the coffee recommendation, I really will try and head over there more often._

_I'll consider my recommendation a success if you do._

_Aye, I promise. It is further though and my leg really does make me pay even if I switch up my routes a little._

_I can imagine. You manage well, coaching even though it must be difficult._

I was pushing it, I knew that, but the conversation was flowing so why the heck not.

_It's the closest I can get to Basketball these days. It's a struggle sometimes but most of the time I make it work._

I look across to his picture and can't help but smile sadly. I can imagine how hard it must be to lose something you love.

It'd be like me losing the use of my drawing hand. I sucked in a breath, not wanting him to think that my pause meant any more.

_Keep it up, a lot of people appreciate it._

_Thanks for the pep talk, Miss Stark._

He made me laugh and I leant my hip against the wall.

_Sorry, I don't really know what I'm talking about when it comes to Basketball._

_Come to the game later. It's fun once you know what you're watching._

I groan and look away from my phone briefly. I can't think of anything worse. Jocks, cheerleaders, shouting fans.

_It's really not my scene. Really._

_You never know, you might like it._

“I might like watching you, you mean,” I murmur to myself and then bite my lip to stop myself from talking. I really _would_ like watching him. I mean, I could go, and just stare.

_I'm overstepping – you do what you enjoy doing, sweetheart._

I wonder whether he calls everybody that or whether that's just me?

_I could come and draw._

_Yeah? What would you draw._

You.

_I don't know – what do you recommend?_

_Er – god knows. Think the ball will move too fast for you to get a consistent view of anything in particular._

_You know what? I'll come._

And draw you. Over and over and over.

_Yeah? Like I say, you might like it._

_I might. If I don't, I'll complain to you later._

_Ha. You're more than welcome, Miss Stark. I'd definitely prefer to have that conversation here though – if you complain to me in person I might just stutter and disappear._

_Why's that?_

_Not the most socially equipped I'm afraid._

_Me either, don't worry. The worst I'll do is wave._

_I could probably manage a wave. I'll definitely spot you; pretty redhead with her face in a sketchbook._

He called me pretty. That's...new. This is all new, actually.

_I'll spot you too. Cute Basketball coach with a bad leg._

_Bad leg, aye. If you want cute you might want to watch the team._

I can feel his embarrassment and I bite down on my lip again. I have no idea how we went from zero to flirting in less in than ten minutes but I can't say that I'm complaining.

_I'll see you soon then._

_Indeed, Miss Stark. Enjoy the game._

I roll my eyes and try to plan something that I can draw. Unfortunately it keeps coming back to _him_.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> Another chapter to see the weekend in. I'm so pleased that people are liking this already, thank you!

The basketball court is inside the sports building and it's the first time I've ever followed the crowd inside. It feels all kinds of wrong but I hope I don't look too out of place or weird. I have my hair pulled up high, glasses down low and my sketchbook and pencils in my bag. There's no entrance fee save for a box for donations and I slide in a couple of dollars before scanning the court for a good place to sit. I want to be on the back row and somewhere inconspicuous but still near the home team. I know Mr Clegane sits on the front benches and I plot a zone where I will have an adequate view. I gravitate towards the top of the bleachers and take a seat in the far corner between the wall and a post. _Perfect._

I take out my sketchbook straight away and slide the pencil over the paper in the shape of the team logo. I write “go team, go!” underneath and laugh as I flip the page, my gaze shifting as the team starts to filter in.

I can tell that it's not a major event, there are several rows of spectators at the bottom of the bleachers and others dotted around but it's far from packed. I wonder if he'll even recognise or spot me where I'm positioned but I don't want to move so I stay where I am and keep my pencil in hand.

It's not too long before I see him enter too. He still has the game grey zip-up and black shorts, and when he takes a seat and stretches out his braced knee his shorts pull up and expose more of the metal and velcro underneath.

I prop my elbow on my knee and watch him, noticing him looking up and scanning the crowd. I allow myself to entertain the idea that he's looking for me and I lean forward a little, unable to stop the smile from pulling at my lips.

I'd admired this man from afar for so long, and now there was an actual connection between us. As exciting as it was, it was also incredibly surreal.

I watched as he looked back towards the Court, spoke to a couple of the guys and pointed to varying spots, then as they stepped away he tugged out his phone and I could tell he was taking a picture. The lens was definitely pointed in my direction and I kept the slight smile just in case.

My phone vibrated and I pulled it out, not surprised at all to see that I had a direct message from CleganeFSU.

_Found you._

There was a picture attached and when I opened it, I realised that he'd zoomed all the way in on me.

_Stalker!_

_I think you'll find that_ you _came_ here _, Miss Stark._

I turned the pages back on my sketchbook, tilted it up and zoomed in so he was just visible seated in the court and my drawing was next to him.

I watched as he looked back up towards the bleachers and there was definitely an amused expression across his face. What the hell, I raised my hand and gave the most awkward wave, holding it there for a moment before – yep, he waved back.

Awkward wave phase; complete.

_Aye. Nice drawing. Go team._

I bite down on my lip and wonder if he'd text me all game. That would certainly be amusing, and part of me wished I could actually be closer now. I wanted to see more of his strong arms and the way his lips curled up when he smiled.

I didn't reply, just flipped the page again and started to sketch an outline of Sandor where he sat. He kept a hand curled around his bad knee and I sketched what I imagined his hands to look like, though I had never seen them up close.

The game started and I paid no attention whatsoever to the scoreboard, though I could tell that our side was winning and I was pleased for him.

He sat pretty for a good while, but when we missed a point or something he wrenched himself up from his seat to throw his hands up at the referee. I frowned at his shift in position but I had already finished most of the drawing and just needed to add detail into his high-tops and the knee brace.

I hope he didn't think it was strange that I was drawing him. It wasn't the best of drawings, a fully detailed piece would take hours upon hours, but I was pleased that it at least looked like him, and all of his proportions looked good.

I looked up and noticed that it was just flitting to half-time. I turned the page over again and tucked my notebook into my bag so I could dash to the bathroom before the second half. I wasn't paying much attention to the actual game but it wasn't _awful_ being there. I was still drawing which was my main concern – if I was doing anything else, I wasn't spending my time productively – so that counted as a win for me.

I found the bathroom and afterwards joined the queue for the concession stand to grab a drink. If I was there, I might as well go all out.

I paid up and headed back towards my spot, watching the court as I headed across the stand and smiling as I saw Clegane on the court again talking to the referee.

I pulled out my phone and saw two notifications, both messages from CleganeFSU.

_We're winning – must have been your heartfelt message of support for the team._

I laughed; he was clearly being sarcastic but it was amusing.

_Did you leave?_

I looked down and felt bad for a moment that he thought I'd gone at the midpoint of the game. He clearly knew that I didn't care about the match; I was there for him more than anything, and truthfully I had been tempted on a number of occasions to turn up to a match but I was using my better judgement to not get to that level. I'd already crossed the line with talking to him and flirting, so it didn't matter any more. My judgement was officially thrown to the wind.

_I just went to the bathroom and to get liquid refreshment. I'm back._

When he returned to his seat I watched him take out his phone then glance over towards me. I waved again, I was really getting the hang of this whole awkward-wave thing, and he shot one back my way. It made me smile and I pulled out my sketchbook again for the second half and this time I sketched a shot of one of the players, number twelve, getting a jump shot. It turned out well and I was pleased that I was expanding my drawing repertoire. Perhaps Clegane would make me official team sketcher. I laughed at my own stupidity and once the drawing was done, I closed the book once more and sat actually watching the end of the match.

It wasn't even a close call; our team won by a substantial number of points and Clegane remained seated for the entirety of the second half. His hand remained curled around his leg and I genuinely felt pangs of sympathy for him. I imagined sitting next to him and wrapping my arm around his waist, resting my head against his shoulder. I had never really thought about whether he was seeing anybody else, but he'd never posted anything suggesting he was, so I'd always let myself assume that he was single and looking.

I was a student at the end of the day, but I wasn't _his_ student, and I'd read enough into it to know that it was perfectly acceptable for us to date. To be together.

_God_ , definitely getting ahead of myself now.

The match came to an end, our team won and it didn't take long before the spectators started filtering out of the hall. I stayed in my seat; I didn't quite know where I was to go from here. Did I just go home? Did I try and lurk and make Clegane speak to me in person?

My phone vibrated again with another direct message and I smiled as I read it.

_I might be tempted to try out my social skills if you want to stay and say hey._

I know he had mentioned his lack of them, but I too definitely struggle with being confident with strangers. Especially Sandor Clegane. He's not much of a stranger now, but we've still never had a proper, real-life conversation. I could reply and ask him to come up to me, but I know that whilst I could skip down the bleachers in less than a minute, it would probably take him closer to five or ten.

_Where?_

I'm certain he doesn't want me to just jump onto the court and wave at him like a crazy person.

_In the lobby, give me five._

Butterflies form in my stomach as I watch him leave the court. He's limping more heavily than he was this morning, probably a result of being up and around on it all day, but he handles himself well as always. I make my way down and through into the sports building. I don't even know where the lobby is, but there are seats behind the glass windows at the front so I linger there to wait for him.

I don't take a seat, I just lean against the back of one of the sofas with one leg crossed over the other. I have no clue at all how this is going to go but it's exciting and scary at the same time.

I'm reading a nearby noticeboard when a door swings open opposite the hall and Sandor Clegane is suddenly within much closer proximity. His expression is an adorable combination of nervousness and amusement and I can't help but laugh as he steps towards me.

“Go team.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sandor grumbles but breaks into a smile moments later, “Miss Stark.” He nods his head and I wave.

Being awkward is _awesome_.

He waves back and I'm so glad there isn't anybody else around to witness our exchange.

“I wasn't paying much attention to the actual game, sorry about that.”

“I didn't expect you to even come, much less pay attention.”

His voice is gravelly and deep; his accent placed so far away from Florida. I've never heard a Scotsman in the flesh before, but here he is and it's gorgeous.

“I'm still glad you enjoyed the coffee.”

He nodded.

“I wish I had another cup of it, actually. Preferably with whisky.”

“We can go get some if you'd like. Coffee, that is. I don't think they have whisky.”

He follows my motion and his gaze lingers outside before he shrugs. I don't even know why I suggested it, it's a long walk across campus and he already told me that the walk doesn't agree with him.

“Sorry, I -”

He chuckles. 

“Let's arrange a coffee date for another day, Miss Stark. Gotta be honest, it's late and I can't think about anything other than getting my feet up and cracking open a beer.”

“Honesty is good.”

“Aye.” He smiles, his eyes creasing at the corners. “It's good to meet you. Properly, I mean. We've had some vague twitter conversations over the last few months but today was different.”

I nod and feel my cheeks flush. “I always wanted to send you a direct message but I thought you might find it weird.” 

“What would be weird about it?”

“I'm a random art student. I have a crush on you, it's not exactly a good combination for having sensible conversations.”

“You have a crush on me?”

He seems genuinely shocked and I nod. If we're going down the honesty route then we may as well carry on in that vein.

I nod and cover my face with my hand.

“Okay, I'm leaving now -!”

I pretend to make a dash for it but he reaches out his hand and laughs. His fingers connect with my elbow and there are _definitely_ sparks that shoot between us.

“Don't run off, sweetheart. That's just...well, a first.”

I look down at his hand which hasn't moved and I bite down on my lip.

“Sorry, I'm already awkward without making it even more awkward.”

“It's sweet, no sweat.”

He retracts his hand and shifts his weight away from his bad leg with a grunt of pain.

“Are you okay?”

He looks at me again with that surprised expression. I wonder how many people ask him that, how many people actually care how he is feeling rather than seeing him as a robot who just manages.

“Aye. It starts to get sore this time of the evening. I'll get it up an' ice it and will be good as new tomorrow. Metaphorically speaking.”

“I should let you get off.”

“Thanks. For coming, an' stopping back to stay hey.”

“I've wanted to say hey for a long time.”

I really have, and now it's here I don't want it to end but he's got to leave and I can't tell him not to.

“Are _you_ okay?” He asks, obviously spotting my crestfallen expression.

“I'm good. Great, even. I just would love to spend more time with you.”

There's that shocked expression _again_.

“Miss Stark,” his voice lowers, “walk with me to my car if you'd like.”

That will send us few more minutes together at least. I nod and stand up properly again, stretching out my legs. He steps forward with a wince and I try to keep my gaze away from his brace and his gait, even though it all intrigues me to no end.

I hold the door open for him as I'm closer, and he chuckles as we step through into the much cooler campus air.

“Did you draw anything else?”

I turn towards him and nod, raising my hand to push my glasses further up the bridge of my nose.

“Can I see?”

“Before I go.”

I nod and so does he, then we fall into the same pace as he does. He has longer legs so his strides are naturally longer despite his limp. I always wondered if he would feel even taller up close and he _does,_ but I'm tall enough for it not to feel like an unusual height difference.

“I don't park far. Just over there.”

Sandor motions to the small parking lot at the back of the staff building. There are only a couple of spots and I know he'll get a space because of his disabled badge. It feels weird thinking about him being disabled, it's only a bad leg after all, but I imagine if affects him in so many aspects of his life.

I don't want our walk to be awkward and it doesn't feel like it is. There's something about just being in his company that feels warming and enjoyable, and I never expected to feel so comfortable even just walking with him across campus.

“I like it when it's quiet like this.”

He nods in agreement and pulls out his cell phone.

“Aye. The sun casts a nice glow this time of night.”

He pauses and twists around until he gets a good shot of the sunset over the sports building.

“That's a good one.” I smile and my stomach flips as I realise he's opened up twitter and he's posting it. I'll be able to look at the picture forever and remember that he took it with me standing beside him, and that's an amazing feeling. He types for a moment and I'm excited to read he tags he adds alongside the image.

He glances back over at me and smiles, then his face seems to flush and he ducks his head as he steps forward again.

“What?” I ask softly, nudging him gently with my hip. It's the most gentle of nudges but he still falters a little and I feel guilt run through me at the fact that I caused him even a smidge of discomfort.

“The sun,” he speaks softly, motioning towards me, “it makes your hair look like fire.”

Nobody has ever used that analogy against me before and my eyes widen a little. I want to see what he sees.

“Take a picture.”

He nods and pulls his cell out again, pausing once more. He doesn't seem to be recognising my stalling tactics. Good.

He takes a couple of snaps, skims through them and smiles. I move behind him so I can see, and okay. Yeah. He's really great at taking pictures.

He's already opened our direct message chat and he's sent the three images to me, I feel the vibrations in my pocket but I don't need to look yet.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs then ducks his head again. “I'm not used to women actually wanting to be around me.”

I'm sure those are tales for another day, but I frown and reach out, my hand brushing against the back of his. I don't want to make him feel too uncomfortable; we are still on campus after all, but he smiles rather than pulls back.

We walk again and it's not long before we're ahead of the few cars in the car park. It's clear straight away which vehicle is his, there's a black truck with the plates _C13G4N3_ and he motions to it.

“This is me.”

“Nice plates.”

“Aye,” he chuckles, “had those since I was a kid.

I smile and glance from the car back towards him. I really don't want our brief encounter to be over but it feels like as good a time as any for us to part.

“I had a good time. Well, kind of – oh!”

I remember my sketchbook and pull it out of my bag.

“I said I'd show you.”

He nods and leans against the hood, the truck creaking as he stretches his leg out a little and takes most of the weight off it.

I pass him the pad and flip the pages until I get to the team logo, which he laughs at. I flip two pages over and show him number twelve.

“Huh.” He smiles softly, running his finger over the blank space on the page. “Dwight Morgan. How'd you manage to capture that? He's in the air for two seconds or so.”

“I've done a lot of drawing. I can see an image and my mind creates a snapshot. It's a skill I have.”

“Fuckin' incredible – ah, sorry.”

I shrug, I don't care if he swears. It's kind of endearing.

I bite my lip and then flip back to the page before. I'm more nervous about this one; the quick sketch I did of him.

He glances over the page and inhales a breath, then his fingers are across the page again.

“You're an artist, Sansa. I mean, look at what you had to work with,” he motioned to himself, “and you drew this.”

“Do you like it?”

“Hell yes.” He looks over the image again and shakes his head until hair cascades over his forehead and he has to brush the strands back. “It's me, that's for sure. Bad leg an' all.”

“I didn't mean to make that the focus,” I bite on my lip and hope I haven't insulted him.

“No,” he shakes his head, “it's there. That's how I was sittin' – you've just drawn me, in that moment.”

I scan my eyes over his hand and compare it to the image.

“I had to guess on the hands.”

“They look like my hands.” Sandor smiles, turning over his palm and back again. “This has made my week, Sansa. You're amazing.”

“You can take the picture, if you'd like.”

“No. You keep it – I don't want a page out of your sketchbook. You can draw me again sometime.”

“Okay. Deal.”

He grins, his lips stretching wide and exposing his perfectly straight, white teeth.

“I'm holding you to that coffee. Are you, uh, around in the morning? I get in at about eight. I'll grab coffee from the student village before I have to get started at nine.”

Eight is pretty early, but I don't have classes until eleven.

“I can meet you at eight.” I nod, taking my sketchbook when he holds it out to me. I tuck it away and then lean in for a hug before he can even move an inch. I avoid his stretched out leg and I'm relieved when he arms come around me and hold me just as tightly back.

“Can I tell you a secret, sweetheart?”

I nod, inhaling the scent of his aftershave on his neck and zip-up.

“I have no clue what you see in a banged up old coach like me, but as for crushes...I certainly have one on you now.”

He makes me blush and I duck my head against him before we pull apart.

I wish more than anything that I could get in his car and leave with him; but then that would ruin the element of suspense.

“I'll see you tomorrow?”

I can tell in his expression that he doesn't want me to leave either, but he drags himself upright from the hood and nods.

“Aye. Tomorrow.”

I let him get into his truck without my watchful gaze and I spin around and send him one last wave before I head off in the direction of my place. My step is bouncy and excitement courses through me, my smile wide as I walk the path that we just did until I detour off in my direction.

I pick up sushi from my favourite restaurant, eat it sitting on a campus bench and then I'm giddy all the way home.

Sandor Clegane.

His name has so much more meaning now that I've shared these moments with him; felt his arms wrapped around me.

I don't look at my phone again until I've had a shower and braided my hair so that it's wavy in the morning. I climb into bed then grab my phone and go straight to our direct messages.

The pictures Sandor took are right there and my breath catches in my throat; they are amazing. The sun is catching my hair and my skin just so, and he's right. _Fire_.


	3. Chapter Three

He hasn't sent me any messages when I check. Perhaps he doesn't want to seem too eager but I know without a beat of hesitation that I want to send him one.

_I hope you got home okay. Thank you for being so sweet – I'm looking forward to coffee in the morning._

Instantly he's replying and I smile at the thought of him waiting for me to send the first message.

Sometimes I overthink these things far too much. Should I wait for people to get in touch and grow impatient if it's not as quick as I'd like? Should I always just take the ball into my court and do whatever feels right? Clearly I did the latter in this situation, and I'm more than glad of that.

_I got home a little while ago, sweetheart. I grabbed a bite to eat and now I'm on my couch with my leg up and a beer. Life is good._

I imagine him just like that, and yeah, I wish I was snuggled up next to him, but hopefully that time will come.

_Sounds nice, I'm glad you're resting up for a while. I forgot to say sorry for nudging you earlier, I didn't mean to hurt you._

_Oh, don't worry about that. I miss my footing enough and do far worse. I'd rather you be near me and make me stumble every now and then than not have the feeling of you next to me at all._

He's so sweet, _wow._ I roll onto my stomach and prop my head up with one hand as I reply with the other.

_I'll keep that in mind, thank you. I'm glad I came tonight, obviously I'm never going to become a basketball super fan but it was worth it._

_Aye, I was pleased to see you. Sorry if I was awkward, scratch that, I know I was awkward._

_Did you see me? Awkward personified! I'd rather you be awkward too than think I'm completely strange._

_You're not strange, Sansa. Insanely talented, yes. Beautiful, yes. But strange? Not a chance._

It's unreal how adorable he is. I always thought he'd be a nice guy; he seems genuine in his tweets – which reminds me – I check his twitter and scan over the picture of the sunset. _#sunset_ _# basketballevenings #beautiful #stunning #fire._

_Fire._ My heart skips a beat again and I scroll back through to the messages with Sandor.

_How are you so sweet?_

_Beats me. As I said, I haven't had female attention for a long time. I'm practising._

_I'm lucky that you haven't already got a partner. I wish you did, I mean, you deserve to have somebody and be happy. But I'm glad that I get this opportunity now._

_I've had partners in the past. Some last a short while but they never last long._

_Why not?_

_I don't know. I can be a grumpy old man at times. Especially if my leg is acting up. Sometimes it takes all of my patience just to get through the day._

_I wish you didn't have to go through it everyday._

_Thanks, sweetheart. I've been living it for over ten years so I've adapted, some days are worse than others. Today wasn't great but I hope it didn't show._

_It didn't._

I blew out a breath and felt tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. This man was something else. So nice. So sweet, and life had dealt him the shittiest hand. It had a habit of doing that to good people.

_I'm glad. It feels a lot better now – ice and elevation do wonders._

_That's good to hear, Sandor. I didn't want you to leave earlier._

_I didn't want to leave either. Coffee was so damn tempting but the idea of having to walk across campus to the shop and then back to my car...yeah. That was too much today._

_I understand entirely. I never want you to push yourself to please me. Or anybody. You should just do what works for you._

_Aye, I do. You're something else, you know? Honestly can't remember the last time anybody cared enough to bother to ask about any of this. People assume I have a stick up my ass about it but I don't. I don't give a crap about talking about my leg; I wear a brace every day, sometimes I turn up to work on crutches. It's fucked, you know? People should just ask rather than dancing around it._

I could never have a clue how he felt, day in, day out, but he was certainly good at letting me in and helping me to understand. I smile to myself and imagine Sandor laying on his couch sipping his beer and typing messages to me. It's a nice mental image.

_It's good that you're open about it. Some people_ do _have sticks up their assess about things like that and I suppose people just assume you are the same._

_I get that, hence why I don't get pissed off at everybody and try to educate. I do struggle and I do suffer, but it doesn't define me it's just part of me._

_I have always been intrigued by you._

I figure I might as well open up too and tell him where I'm coming from in all of this.

_You're noticeable, as I'm sure you're aware. So tall and strong, and then you have your injury which has always drawn my attention towards you. I've seen you a lot around campus and I've always imagined talking to you and seeing if we would ever get on. I found your twitter handle last year and I've followed everything you've posted ever since. I know I told you I had a crush on you but I don't know, perhaps it was more than that. I've wanted you. A lot._

There's a pause from Sandor and I wonder if I've freaked him out. After a moment the typing icon is back and I bite my lower lip in anticipation.

_See, sweetheart, that's what shocks me. You're gorgeous – a beautiful woman, so talented and special. You could want to be close to anyone and you could have them – any man would be lucky to have you on their arm. I'm just...me. Never gonna run anywhere, sometimes I can barely walk. I'm not a catch._

_I want interesting though, Sandor. I'd much rather be with somebody who has lived a life even if it has not been so kind. I want somebody who would want to be with me for me, not because I'm attractive or appealing._

_If I got the chance to be with you even once, Sansa, I would be the luckiest man on the planet._

I hadn't spent the last two years fantasising about Sandor Clegane because I felt sorry for him or because I wanted to give him something special and make him feel good then take it all away. I truly felt a strong attraction to him and a connection through just seeing him and reading his online persona.

_If I got the chance to be with you too, it'd be all my dreams come true, Sandor. I wanted to come home with you today._

_Aye, I know. I think it's better this way – we can talk as much as we want here. Sometimes it's easier, less awkward, y'know?_

_I wouldn't say half of these things in person._

_Me either, Sansa. I'd be far too embarrassed. Not because any of it is an untruth, it's just harder._

_I know. I can't wait for coffee. Can I hug you again?_

_Aye, of course you can. You can come home with me another day if you'd still like. You can sit with me and drink beer while I get my knee to stop acting up._

_That sounds perfect. I wish I was there now._

_Sansa, stop before I give you my address and make you get your ass over here._

I laugh loudly; like that would be a bad thing. Eight wasn't all that far away and we'd have a whole hour, perhaps less once Sandor needed to leave to walk back across campus.

_For the record, I'd take your address and I'd be there in a heartbeat. But I'll stop. Is your knee feeling okay now?_

_I'll need to get up soon, probably relocate to bed and get it up for the night, but aye. It's feeling better than it has all day._

_Do you take the brace off when you get home?_

I don't want to ask too many questions but I'm really interested. I just want to know everything about him and I'm lucky that he's happy to share.

_Yes. I need the heavy duty brace when I'm out and about but when I get back here I take it off and I've got a couple of others; they give me just enough support so I can limp around. I'm really selling myself, huh?_

_You don't need to sell yourself, Sandor. I'm already sold._

_Ha. You're really damn sweet._

_I try._

_Hey, sweetheart, can you bear with me for ten minutes or so? I'm gonna get my ass up, toss out this melting ice, use the bathroom yadda yadda and then get into bed. Will you stick around?_

_Of course. I'll be here – take it carefully._

_I always do. I'll be thinking of you, give me a few._

So. Freaking. Adorable.

I set my phone down and get myself a glass of water while he does what he needs to do. I imagine him limping through his apartment, or house, I'm not sure which, I can't imagine stairs would be a good combination with his leg. Every word he drops makes me like him even more, he's just a totally normal, lovely guy, and he appreciates my care and sympathy which makes me feel even better about giving the damns I do.

Sandor Clegane.

I'm never going to read his twitter the same again. I feel like we are actually getting somewhere for real, and I hope things carry on the way they are because it feels so incredible. Talking to him is easy; I've spoken to a lot of assholes and he is nothing like any of them.

Ten minutes pass and then it slips into fifteen. It's not late enough for me to feel tired so I sit on my bed and scroll through my phone just waiting for him to return. I wonder if he's okay and hope that he is. It's just past twenty minutes when my phone vibrates again and a message pops up again.

_Sorry, sweetheart. That took longer than expected. I dropped the ice pack and near flooded my kitchen – jesus._

I frown and wish I could be laying with him instead of messaging him over twitter.

_Oh no. Did you get it cleared up?_

_Grabbed a towel and soaked up most of the water. I'll pick it up in the morning, you don't want to see me trying to get near the ground, trust me. Well, I suppose getting down isn't so bad but getting up is damn near impossible._

_As long as you're comfortable in bed now._

_Aye, thank god. Got my stack of pillows and a couple of pain meds to see me through the night. I told you I'm a mess, didn't I?_

_You're not a mess. You're adorable._

_You say that now, sweetheart, but just wait until you need to help me haul my ass out of bed in the mornings. Mornings aren't great, get stiff overnight but hot showers do wonders._

_Now you're making me imagine you in the shower. All steamy._

_Shit, sorry._

_Why apologise? It's only something I've imagined a lot before..._

_Jesus, Sansa._

I laugh at myself and also wonder why I keep pushing it further and further. I've gone from mild flirtation to telling Sandor that I've imagined him all hot and sweaty in the shower. I can imagine him getting embarrassed and I press my lips together to stop myself from teasing.

_Sorry, Sandor. I'll stop._

_If you want to imagine that, I have no business in stopping you. Hopefully one day you won't have to imagine it._

“Shit,” I laugh out loud and bury my head in my pillows.

_One day, definitely. Let's move on?_

_Aye, probably a good idea. What time do you sleep?_

_Soon. I'm not tired yet though - you?_

_Getting tired, sweetheart. I'll let you know before I sign off for the night._

_Okay. Eight is getting closer and closer._

_It is. I can pick you up if you'd like. I could park on the student village side tomorrow, saves me walking across._

_That sounds like a good plan. I'm at West Side building 4. Come before eight if you're up earlier._

It's worth a shot; perhaps I can get him to come in and we can have a long hug in private.

_I'll try and be over for seven thirty if that works for you, gorgeous. Hey, my meds make me real tired and my eyes are starting to go. I better say goodnight._

_Seven thirty is perfect. Okay, no worries. Get some rest and have sweet dreams._

_You too, sweetheart. Thanks for today. I'll see you soon._

Most men would just fall asleep without saying anything, but the fact he was starting to fall asleep and told me about it first? So. Sweet.

“Goodnight, Sandor.” I murmur as I look at his picture again and then close my eyes.


	4. Chapter Four

My body clock is efficient, as it always has been, and I wake at exactly seven the next morning. I check twitter and see that Sandor has been active in the last twenty minutes which hopefully means he'll be over early, so I tease out my waves and apply a little powder and lip gloss before dressing. I pull on my favourite denim dress with a waist belt and sit at my window to keep watch on the road outside.

At seven twenty his truck pulls up outside and my stomach flips anew in excitement. He sits for a couple of minutes and I assume that he doesn't want to knock before seven thirty as that's what he said he would do. So sweet, but obviously the earlier I get to see him, the better. I watch with a soft smile as he starts to climb out of the truck, but then I feel bad for spying on him so I look away and wait for the knock at the door instead, where I'm totally  _not_ already standing behind when the doorbell rings. 

I give it a few moments before I open it and give Sandor the biggest smile I have.

“You came early.” 

“Aye.” He smiles back, his eyes still tired but his hair damp and a clean scent of soap and shampoo testament to the fact that he woke early and showered too. 

“Come in.”

He nods and follows me down the hall, closing the door behind him. I know we don't have much time here but the fact that he's here at all is so nice and I just can't wait to feel him close to me again.

“How did you sleep?” I ask and turn my head towards his sigh of indifference. 

I wonder if it's one of the bad days he speaks of, or perhaps it's just still  _morning_ for his leg and it still needs time to have the kinks worked out. 

“Could have slept for another five hours,” he chuckles softly and shrugs, “shouldn't complain.” 

“Do you want me to make coffee or would you like to wait?”

“I could drink coffee.”

I make us both an instant and my gaze flickers to the clock; seven thirty five. I don't want to waste any of this time.

“We can go sit in my room? I don't have a sofa, sorry.”

“I can live without a sofa, don't worry.”

I nod and carry both of the cups through to my bedroom, looking over my shoulder to make sure Sandor is following. He is.

I set them down and then step back over towards him, biting down on my lower lip.

“Hey,” I murmur, and slide an arm around his waist. His come around me too and I lean my head against his shoulder and chest, hearing his heartbeat beneath my ear. 

“Hey, beautiful.” He whispers back and I swear he kisses my hair. He can keep doing that, preferably forever. I pull back just enough to slide my hand up towards his jaw and I rest it there, brushing my thumb over the thick beard covering his skin. It's soft and pliable, and we lock eyes in a silent agreement that this is totally an appropriate time to kiss. I ease up onto my toes and press a soft kiss against Sandor's closed lips then pull back.

“Let me sit,” he murmurs, shifting me a little so he can ease himself down onto the edge of the bed and stretch out his leg. I slide into the space between his good leg and the injured one and he hooks his arm around me, dragging me close. I kiss him again this time with more intent and exploration as our lips part and our tongues meet. 

It's going to be so hard to leave and get on with my day after  _this_ . 

“You look stunning,” he brushes his hand over my hair and I blush. “So pretty, Miss Stark.”

I bite down on my lower lip and Sandor tugs me down so I am sitting on his good leg where he holds me steadfast. I don't weigh much at all, which is definitely a good thing considering he only has one thigh to take my weight on.

“You look good too,” I respond, running my fingers through the strands of his damp hair. “Smell good as well.”

“I took a long shower.” He smiles and leans close enough to press his lips against my throat. His lips are soft and his kiss sends tingles throughout my whole body.

“Busy day today?”

“Aye, lots of practice. No match tonight which is good.”

“More time to rest and relax.” 

He nods. “We can do something, if you'd like.”

_Of course_ . The more time with Sandor Clegane, the better. I haven't started any commissions that can't wait for another few days.

“I'd like that.” 

“We'll enjoy this first,” he leans forward again and kisses my cheek, “but later too. Definitely.” 

Sandor feels  _so_ good. He has muscles on top of muscles, his biceps are huge and his shoulders spread so wide and so heavy. I'm certain he'd be able to carry me even with one functional leg and I enjoy the moment of him beneath me as I wrap my arm around his shoulders and rest my head against him. 

“Can every day start like this?”

I smile at his words and nod.

“They could start even better than this. You could not have to get up and ready without me there. No driving. I could be with you.”

“That...sounds perfect.” He kisses my hair again and curls his hand against my shoulder. He feels so good. So amazing. I always knew that it would be nice to do this, to have Sandor so close, but it feels even better than I ever could have anticipated. 

“Sansa,” he speaks softly and I nod, “I dreamt about you. All night, all of my dreams.” 

I bite down on my lip.

“I don't dream often. Usually the meds leave me out cold and I sleep but don't remember a thing, but last night...I remember everything.”

He seems pleased by this, so I press a kiss to his lips once more.

“Nice dreams, I hope?”

“Amazing dreams, Sansa. You were in all of them. So pretty and so soft, just like this...” 

He holds me tight and lets out a soft moan of happiness.

“I don't want to go to work. I just wanna lay down and have you with me all day.”

“That'd be nice,” I agree, “but you have to work. I have to study.”

“Aye,” he laughs, “just a pipe dream. We've got a little more time, we can enjoy it.”

I want to feel Sandor so much closer; see him, touch him.

Later.

Later he'll take me to his apartment and perhaps I can stay all night. Perhaps he'll let me see so much more, and he'll want to see much more of me too.

I trace my fingers over the black tee he is wearing, feeling the deep muscle of his lower back. I can feel the swell of knots there and I press a little harder and rub in a circular motion to work one out.

“ _Damn_ ,” Sandor lets out a groan and arches into my touch, “got a lot of aches and strains, sweetheart.”

“I'll give you a proper massage later,” I move to another knot and do the same with my thumb, “your back must be sore with all of these.”

“Aye. My body doesn't like me very much.”

I laugh and look up at him, our gazes meeting.

“It will. Just give me a couple of hours and I'll make you feel like a new man.”

“Sounds good to me.” 

Sandor leans down and catches my mouth, his teeth pulling my lip gently and making  _me_ sigh this time. I can feel heat rising within me and I want so many more kisses; his touch all over me. He's the kind of man who will leave me wanting all day long, not because he's purposely left me waiting, but because he lights up my body and ignites all of the parts of me that need to be close to someone. 

We only met properly yesterday but I want everything, right now.

“I love your mouth,” I murmur, reaching up to run my fingers over his jaw and then his lips. He kisses my hand at the contact and I slide my hand to the back of his neck, feeling his soft hair falling there.

“I'm pleased that you do,” he smiles and shifts me against him. “ _Gods_ , Sansa. I can't even tell you how much I want you right now.” 

“We can have something to look forward to later.”

“I don't think I'm gonna be able to concentrate on work at all today.”

“The same with me on my studies.” I smile and squeeze him tighter where my arm is still wrapped around him. He squeezes back and then glances over to the mugs of cooling coffee.

“We don't have to go out for coffee,” he murmurs, “your coffee looks perfectly good. We could have an hour.”

An hour. I want that hour so damn much. Part of me wants to wait until later and it's not as though we're going to strip down and make love right here and now;  _that_ needs to be special and we need far more time. I don't ever want to have to rush those moment. 

But an hour would give us more time to kiss and be close. Perhaps I could touch more, and he could do the same.

“Let's have our hour.” 

He grins and pulls me in for another kiss, deeper and all tongue. He moans loudly against my mouth and I've decided that Sandor moaning is one of my new favourite things.

“You taste so good, Sansa.” 

He tastes like mint and freshness and the scent of his aftershave envelopes me as he leans down.

Laying on the bed will be easier, I will be able to get as close as I want without him having to hold me up. I pull away and motion to the bed, and he nods. I climb off him, instantly missing the warmth of his arm around me and the feel of his legs underneath but I know the warmth won't be gone for long.

“My shoes-”

“It's fine.”

His feet will probably hang off the edge of my bed anyway and I'm sure it'll take too much time than I want to give for him to unlace and then tie back up again later.

I watch as he shifts his body across my bed covers and uses a hand to tug up his bad leg to follow. I think of offering him cushions but I know he won't want to get too comfortable and then just have to get up again.

“Aye, that's better. Come here.” 

He opens an arm but instead of laying next to him I kneel instead, both of my hands on his face as I kiss him on the cheek and then the lips. He gets an arm around me and tugs me closer, so much so that I'm almost falling across him and I have to steady myself with a laugh.

“Careful.”

He rolls his eyes and shifts his hips, and that's when I notice that he's sporting a very large and very pronounced bulge in his shorts.

“Your fault, Miss Stark.”

I look at him with a raised eyebrow and reach down, skimming past his crotch to rest my hand against his good thigh.

“Tease.” 

I've never really had the chance to be a tease before. I mean, I've made love to guys before. I've had a couple of relationships, mostly in high school and one in college, but none of those guys had anything about them that made me want to make it last.

Sandor is different. I don't care that he is so much older than I am or that he's battle scarred and weathered. He is the kind of man that I could see a future with; a home, a career and perhaps eventually children. I wonder if he's ever thought about having them? Definitely a question for another time and another stage in our relationship.

I smile and inch my hand across his thigh back upwards. I can feel the tenting material beneath my touch and when I reach the central point, I brush my hand over and feel the hardness of him.

He's huge. I thought he would be, given how large everything about him seems to be.

“It's been a while since anybody has touched me there.”

I catch his gaze and nod, letting my fingers explore further, finding the tip and tracing it down to where his shorts stop me from feeling anything else.

“How long?”

I hear his breath falter. He wasn't expecting the question.

“Years.”

I nod and lean down to kiss him again, keeping my hand in place. He tangles his hand in my hair and splays it across my neck, his thumb brushing my neck.

I can't believe that it's been so long since anybody has paid him as much attention as this. He deserves to be loved; he's so gorgeous and amazing. People are so shallow and it pulls at my heart. I want to make him feel good; to make him feel like he is worth so much more.

I look back down at his shorts and bite down on my lower lip, wondering how best to take this. I could get him off with my hand, I know I can please him that way.

“What would you like, Sandor?”

He smiles and shrugs.

“You call it.” 

I nod and slowly lift up the bottom of his tee, exposing his hair-smattered stomach. I lay my hand there and slide my hand upwards, feeling the six-pack of muscle that lays underneath. My touch makes him stiffen and I look up to check that he's okay; that my touch is okay.

“Feels nice, sweetheart. Tickles a little.”

I laugh and purposely graze my hand against his side and he laughs and groans.

“Shouldn't have told you that.”

“I won't use it to my advantage.”

I poke out my tongue and let his shirt fall down again. I reach for his elasticated waistband and let a finger slide underneath. I then push my hand down, underneath his shorts and underwear.

I keep my gaze on his face and his eyes close momentarily when I reach his dick. It's hot and heavy and there is wetness at the tip.

“Damn,” he murmurs, “your touch makes me want you even more.”

I blush and cup him with my hand, running my finger over his tip and making him moan loudly. His moans hit me hard at the base of my stomach and I want him too, but I want that properly.

“Here,” he lifts his hips a little and tugs his shorts down with one hand, keeping the other on the brace on his thigh and working it past the metal as it gets caught at the top. His dick springs free and I trace a line from the tip to the base, just before where his balls are.

They are huge too, covered in hair and hanging low between his legs.

I curl my hand around the underside of him, stroking his balls softly and looking back up as he moans again.

“ _Fuck,_ that feels good.”

I smile and stroke them again before moving my hand back up and then setting into a slow, purposeful stroke. His hand rests against my opposite arm and curls around my elbow.

“Can't wait to see all of you, Sansa. You're gorgeous – _gods_.”

He tilts his head back and closes his eyes. I keep up with my motions, feeling his dick getting harder and pulsating beneath my touch. I roll his balls with my other hand and he moans even louder.

I like that he's a talker. When I'm on top of him I'll kiss him to quieten his words if I want to; and man...when did I start thinking about making love to somebody? I never planned any of my previous encounters and certainly never looked forward to them as much as I did with him.

I shift so that I can press a kiss to his shoulder as I keep up stroking him. I look down at his crotch and watch as precome builds at the tip, and I slide my finger across his darkening head.

“ _Fuck._ ”

I smile and lean down to kiss him again, this time on his cock. I press my lips to the tip and then slide my tongue from his slit downwards as I keep pumping.

“Woah, okay – jesus.” 

I smile and take him into my mouth, flicking my tongue against him and allowing my teeth to graze his sensitive end. He lifts up his good leg into a slight bend and raises his hips too. He lets out a soft hiss of clear pain as he pulls something in his bad knee and his hand curls around there protectively.

“You don't need to move,” I murmur, resting my free hand against his thigh, over where the brace meets his skin. He nods and shifts his hand so it's resting atop of mine, our fingers entwining, and I start to kiss and lick and _suck_ deeper to try and bring him to orgasm.

“I won't. Sorry – _damn_ , yeah. Just like that. Keep going.”

I nod, though it probably just blends into the bobbing of my head. I move my hand faster and when I reach his balls I take more time there, rolling them carefully as low moans leave him.

I know he's close, I can feel the pulsations against my fingers and my tongue.

“Sansa – sweetheart, I'm so close. So fucking close.” 

I look up at him and smile. I want him to come in my mouth – there's always something so animalistic and hot about swallowing, and I want nothing more than to swallow what Sandor has to release.

His fingers clutch mine more firmly and his breath hitches and the most sensual moan I have ever heard leaves his throat.

He comes in warm, thick spurts, and I have to swallow along with him to take it all in. I can't taste it in the moment but as he finishes I feel the tang of salt and heat in my mouth.

“ _Goddamn,”_ he rasps out, eyes closed tightly as he breathes through his orgasm. “How the- _jesus_ , Sansa.” 

I didn't spill a drop of his come and I smile as I pull my hand back from him, watching his dick as it lays softened against his thigh.

“Hey.” I laugh, and he shakes his head in shock. 

“That was amazing. What did I do to deserve that?” 

I shuffle back upwards and lay my head on his chest, snuggling against him as his arm curls around me and holds me close.

“You didn't do anything, just being you.” 

“Well...thank you. That was...wow.” 

Clearly I did enough to leave him struggling for words.  _Adorable_ . 

He closes his eyes again and lets out a long breath as I smile and lay my hand over his chest as he recovers.

“Just wanted to make you feel good.”

“You did, Sansa. Jesus Christ, you did. I want to do the same for you.”

“Later.”

“You bet.” He nods in agreement and squeezes me again. His touch is so nice and I can still taste him, can still hear his moans. I don't think I'll ever forget the sound of those. 

He glances over towards the clock and sighs. “Gonna need to get my ass up soon.”

“I wish you didn't have to, but I know. Work. Studies.” 

“It's a hard life, huh?” He laughs softly. “I'm off at three though. What time are your classes done?”

“Two.”

Two is okay, sometimes I have evening classes I'm excited to be done already.

“Perfect. Uh, right. Better get myself presentable.”

He shifts his hips and tugs up his underwear and shorts, settling them against his waist.

“Leg's gonna be a bitch now, it's probably thinkin' we're off for the day.” 

I frown and lean across to his bad leg. I press a kiss to his knee and pretend to whisper to it.

“Be nice to Sandor today, huh?” 

He laughs and runs his hand across my shoulder before shifting to try and ease himself upright. I pull back to give him the space that he needs but I watch as he shimmies himself to the edge and then eases his leg down.

“Damn, forgot the coffee.” 

He downs the cup of lukewarm liquid and I do the same. It still tastes good, though definitely not as good as the independent.

“We'll try the coffee date again another day.”

“Aye. Plenty of time for coffee, sweetheart.”

I hope so.

I cross around to him and offer him a hand, which he takes with a smile though I can tell he doesn't utilise much of my strength as he pushes himself up. He keeps his hand curled around mine as he tests out his leg and grunts.

“Fuckin' thing.”

I tilt my head and offer him an expression of concern, and for my efforts he smiles again and uses his hand to brush back some of my fallen waves.

“Never worry about me, gorgeous. Promise me that?”

“I think it's in my nature to worry.”

“Aye, I can tell. I just don't want you to worry too hard, y'know? It hurts sometimes but s'nothing I can't handle.”

“You're too brave for your own good.”

“Don't have much choice.” 

Sandor chuckles and pulls back his hand, then stretches his arms out until his shoulders make a satisfying  _pop_ . 

“I'm glad you care. It's nice to have somebody around that does.”

“People are assholes.”

“Aye,” Sandor laughs again and shrugs, “most of the time it's ignorance rather than malice. Just want you to carry on with your studies and finish becoming the incredible artist that you already are. I don't want to be a distraction.”

“I'd say it's too late for that.”

“It _is_ too late for that, you're most certainly going to be distracting me all day. Especially if I can't stop myself from thinking about your mouth, on my-” 

He clears his throat and ducks his head.

“That was amazing, Sansa. Honestly.”

He makes me blush and I lean closer to him, close enough to lay a hand on his shoulder and whisper in his ear.

“This is just the beginning.” 

His lips part as though he's to say something but instead he pulls me closer and kisses me deeply.

“Let's get going. I'll park in my usual spot.”

I gather my supplies for the day, taking care to take my sketchbook from my satchel which I had with me at the game yesterday. Sandor takes directions to my bathroom and meets me in the hall with a charming smile and a well managed limp.

We share one more chaste kiss, my lips on the corner of his mouth before I unlock the door and we head out to his truck. It's barely even worth driving, he could park there all day and the walk wouldn't be too far, but I know he likes his parking space.

He holds the door open for me and I climb in to the passenger side whilst he arranges himself in the drivers seat.

He has his seat pushed all the way bag with plenty of room for his legs, and I notice he doesn't use the pedals.

“Do you have adaptations?” I ask, glancing down at the gearbox as he nods and motions to the stick.

“Aye. It drives automatic but I have the gas and brake pedal hand-controlled. I can drive with my left foot but this just makes it all a lot more comfortable.”

“Huh.” I nod, impressed, and he chuckles. 

“This is going to be the shortest drive ever, sweetheart.” 

“Still our first drive together.”

It's a milestone; I'll take it.

“That's very true.”

He starts the truck and drives around the block to get back to the main street which leads to the car park that he frequents. The same space as yesterday is still available and he parks up with practised ease.

“How long was that, thirty seconds?”

“Forty I'd say.”

“Forty seconds.” He shakes his head and unfastens himself. “Well, sweetheart, I guess this is goodbye for now. Wait...you don't start class until eleven.”

I hadn't even thought about the fact that I didn't  _need_ to leave my house for another couple of hours. 

“Oh my goodness!” I laugh, clamping my hand over my mouth. “I forgot.”

“Me too, jesus. Do you want me to drive you back?”

“That's incredibly sweet but don't be silly. I think I'll go get that coffee and do some sketching until class. That would be productive.”

“Aye, sounds perfect.” Sandor slides his hand across towards me and lays it softly over my knee, brushing his thumb across my bare skin. “I'll see you back here just after three?”

“Absolutely.” 


	5. Chapter Five

I sit sketching coffee cups and the hands and apron of the barista as she works. My class is a still-life, probably flowers or something relatively uninteresting but it's always good to warm up beforehand.

My drawing doesn't stop my mind wandering to our early morning rendezvous and the feel and taste of him. I feel heat rising in my cheeks just thinking about it.

I'd already made a plan not to message Sandor during the day, not because I don't want to but because I don't want to be too much of a distraction. It's quite thrilling not talking and letting the excitement build.

He apparently has other plans though as just after ten a message pops up from him and it makes me smile instantly.

_The whole 'trying not to be distracted' thing isn't working out too well for me, sweetheart._

_No?_

_Nope. I can't stop thinking about you and I've looked at those pictures I took yesterday about a million times. I can't believe this morning happened. It did happen, right? I didn't just have a really long drug-induced sleep?_

I laugh and shake my head.

_It happened. I definitely know the difference between dream Sandor and real-life Sandor._

_How are we different?_

_Real-life Sandor is way nicer._

_I'm better than I was in your dreams? That's awesome._

_You're supposed to be working._

_I know, I know. I just wanted to say hey. I miss you already – is that too creepy?_

_I miss you too. I just wanted to try not to be a distraction; I'd have messaged you from the moment I left if it wasn't against my better judgement._

_Message me all you like, gorgeous. I like hearing from you. We're having a practice match in five, just wanted my down time to be all about you._

He's so freaking sweet, I can't even

_Only five hours until you're done._

_Gods, yes. I can't wait. See you later – hope class goes well._

I switch on my camera and take a photo of me sitting in the coffee shop, pencil behind my ear and the biggest smile on my face.

_I'll be thinking of you._

I don't expect to get a picture back but then one pops up, the camera angle clearly down on his lap as it's mostly all beard but there's a smile there and his eyes are bright.

_I'm not one for selfies but yours is beautiful. I'll treasure that – a new picture to look at a million times._

_It's you, it's perfect. We can take some selfies together later._

_I'd love that. Better go, sweetheart. Bye for now._

It's incredible how even such a short five minute exchange makes me grin ear to ear and feel incredibly giddy.

In class we're drawing a bouquet of flowers with around ten different types of flora and I have to admit, it's fun and after my three hours of painting I'm more than impressed with what I created.

“Exquisite, Miss Stark.” Professor Collins stands behind me with a thoughtful expression, his own paintbrush held in hand and resting against his mouth. I have to admit I had a crush on him too at one point, but that quickly faded when I started getting embroiled in my fascination with Mr Clegane.

I never thought I had a thing for older men but I quite possibly did.

“I particularly enjoy the light and shade on the Alstroemeria. Very alluring.”

“Thank you, Professor.” I duck my head and add my name to the bottom of the piece. I never used to sign my work but he encourages me to do so every time now. He tells me that he never wants my work to be mislaid and for others to try and claim it as their own.

“Keep up the fantastic work. You're excelling, as always.”

I blush and he smiles before moving across to the next student and easel. I take out my cell and snap a picture of the piece, sending it to Sandor.

He doesn't reply straight away which is fine; I don't expect him to be at my beck and call every moment. He does have real work to do, after all. I wouldn't want any of the basketball guys to rib him for messaging me either.

I complete a page in my recital book explaining the technique and reasoning behind my style and piece, all part of the programme, and when I'm done it's almost two. I'm in no rush as Sandor doesn't get off until three but I do want to head back to my place to pack an overnight bag first.

I'm _definitely_ staying over. It's Saturday tomorrow and I'm unsure if Sandor has any plans, but I certainly don't.

I leaf through my closet and grab some shorts and a string vest for sleeping, and a change of clothes for the following day. I'm sure Sandor has toiletries but I have a wash bag with some small bottles and I take that with me too.

As I'm finishing packing my cell vibrates and Sandor has replied to my picture.

_Stunning, sweetheart. How long did that take?_

_Three hours or so._

_Incredible. I'm almost done here, still good for three?_

_Yep, I'm just back home grabbing a bag. I'll be there._

_Great. See you then, beautiful._

I smile and twirl around in my room to the sound of the music I have playing on the radio. I'm so excited to see Sandor and to go to his place and see where he lives. There's always something exciting about having the opportunity to see where somebody lives; it's like their soul becomes clearer when you know what kind of a person they are and the personal touches that are made. I can't make my place too personal because it's not _mine_ , but when I move after college I'll definitely be painting murals all over the walls and making it my own.

I leave square on three and as soon as I start the walk across campus I spot Sandor walking from the sports building down the path towards the car park. I keep my pace neutral but there's still a bounce in my step as I watch him. He's slightly ahead of me so he doesn't see me, but I check his gait and I'm pleased when he's limping no more than usual. He probably appreciates the shorter days with no matches; there's less time to be up on his feet. I think he said the same yesterday when we were chatting.

At the midway point I join his path and jog for a couple of seconds until I catch up with him.

He spots me instantly which is perfect as I don't need to surprise him and make him falter.

“Miss Stark,” he greets formally with an amused smile, “artist extraordinaire.”

I do a funny little courtesy and beam back at him. “Flowers are far from my forte but I think the painting turned out well. Professor Collins was impressed.”

“ _Anybody_ would be impressed. You need to open your own art gallery.”

“That's the plan!”

I want to take his hand but I don't know how exposed we can be on campus, so I just follow alongside him and cross straight to the passenger side when we get to his truck.

“De ja vu.”

“Aye.” He settles in and positions his bad leg comfortably before buckling up. I reach across as soon as I can, my hand resting against his thigh and squeezing gently.

His gaze goes to my hand and then to my face, and he covers mine with his much larger and squeezes.

“Thanks for wantin' to see me again so soon.”

I want to hug him tight and press my lips against his, but it'll come.

“There's nowhere I'd rather be, Sandor. Trust me.”

He ducks his head and smiles before pulling his hand back to start the ignition. I don't move mine though, I just let my thumb softly brush against his shorts.

“Right, just so I have a plan in my noggin, what are we plannin' for food? Am I taking you out? Ordering in? I'd offer to cook but I'll admit it now that I'm not the best.”

“I just want to be with you all night.”

That's exactly where I want to be. Snuggled up, laying on the sofa, eating something easy and then watching a movie with Sandor resting and relaxed.

“Don't want to go anywhere, don't want _you_ to be anywhere other than right next to me.”

I can tell that I made him blush and I squeeze his leg softly.

“Aye, that sounds perfect. If I park up real quick by this seven eleven can you run in and grab a twelve pack of beer, anythin's good, and something you'd like to drink? Got a bunch of take out menus at my place so we can choose somethin' nice.”

“Of course.”

I've already realised that I'll do anything so that he doesn't have to be walking around more than he has to.

“Thanks beautiful.”

He parks up outside said convenience store then pulls out his wallet and fishes out a couple of twenties.

I take the money, blow him a kiss and then head inside. I've been to this place before but I don't make a habit of buying packs of beer so I ponder over the boxes until I spot a good deal on twelve bottles of an independent beer that I wouldn't mind having a couple of. He said I should buy something I like too, so before I pick up the box I find a bottle of wine and take that over to the cashier.

“Thanks,” I smile brightly, “and a box of the, uh-” I motion to it and the guy behind the counter nods and rings it through.

“Anything else?”

I shake my head and gather up the beer and the wine bottle and head back out, pushing open the door with my butt to get back outside.

Seeing Sandor and his truck makes me tingle and I pull open the back door to set the box down there.

There's a pair of black aluminium crutches laying down in the gap in front of the back seats and it sends a pang of sympathy coursing through me that sometimes he has to use those. He's rarely on crutches on campus, sometimes he has one and a more heavily pronounced limp, and sometimes he has a black cane. I haven't seen that for a while but it does seem to be quite a frequent accessory.

Sandor smiles as I pass him his change and climb back in next to him.

“I appreciate it, sweetheart. Do it myself but it takes far longer.”

“You don't need to apologise; I understand.”

He smiles and tucks his money back into his wallet before switching to drive again.

“Not far from here. Just turn here, and-”

He motions to the row of one-story buildings and I watch with interest as we pass down the street. He parks outside number twenty three; a one-storey with large windows and a well-kept front yard next to the parking spot out front.

It's a nice street; the houses aren't quite suitable for students so it makes it perfect for families or singletons.

He grabs the beer this time and I take the wine, and when we get to the front door he passes me the keys to open up. I turn over the bunch and smile at the keyrings he has adorning them; one is the basketball team's logo – naturally – and the other is one from the Florida State University gift shop.

“Predictable, huh?”

I laugh and turn the key, pushing open the door and stepping inside first. I take in the clean wooden flooring and the white walls with photo frames hung. There's a picture of Sandor in his younger days in his basketball uniform but I don't pay too much attention. There's plenty of time to study his pictures.

“Straight down the hall is the kitchen,” he says and I lead the way down.

His kitchen is tidy too; relatively large for the small one-storey and he has a large fridge in the corner with another smaller fridge the other side with a couple of bottles of beer.

There's a towel on the floor in the corner and Sandor rolls his eyes toward it.

“Damn, forgot to pick that up.”

I bend down and grab it and he motions to the washer on the opposite side.

“Toss it in there if you don't mind.”

I never mind. Anything for you, Sandor. _Anything_.

He unpacks the beer into the small fridge until it's fully stocked and I watch him with a soft smile as he tosses the box into the recycling.

“So, uh, yeah. This is my place.”

I smile and cross closer to him, leaning up and kissing him just how I'd imagined all day.

“I love it. I was wondering where you'd live, if it'd be an apartment or a two-storey.”

“Stairs screw me over on bad days,” he admits and it's as I suspected. “This works better, all one level.”

He motions to the beer and then the wine that I'd set on the kitchen table.

“What're you drinking?”

“I'll try a beer.”

He grins and grabs two from the fridge, using an opener on the wall to crack them both open and then pass one to me.

“Cheers, sweetheart.”

“Cheers.” I nod and take a sip. It's as good as any beer that I've tasted and I smile, remembering my thoughts from earlier in the day. “It's Saturday tomorrow.”

“Aye, that is is.”

“Do you have much planned?”

Please say no, Sandor. _Please_.

“Uh,” he pauses for a moment, clearly thinking, then shrugs, “we don't have matches on Saturdays. There's one on Sunday evening and training early in the morning, but tomorrow I ain't doing a thing.”

I grin and raise my eyebrows, and he looks at me with a bemused expression.

“What?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking, if you're not doing anything, and I'm not doing anything, we can do... something.”

“Something, huh?”

“Lay in bed until noon, maybe. Go for a walk. I don't know.”

“You're staying?”

I groan loudly; he's clearly teasing me.

“I planned to.”

“Aye. You're more than welcome.”

He chuckles and steps towards me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and tugging me towards him. He leans down, his breath smelling faintly of beer now and kisses my hair.

“I'd love to spend my Saturday with you, Sansa. I'd be honoured, I shouldn't even bloody joke about it.”

I sense a hint of mirth in his tone but I don't comment, I just lean into him and smile as his aftershave engulfs me once more. I inhale deeply and he chuckles and kisses me again.

“Come see the living room, sweetheart. I for one have a sofa, and it's callin' my name as we speak.”

I'm slowly learning enough about him to know that he's most definitely hinting that he wants to sit down, so I nod and take his hand. It's the first time our fingers have ever linked with that purpose and I clutch tightly as he guides me back down the hall to another door where said room is.

His sofa is black leather, three seats that flank a large television on the opposite wall. He sets his beer down on the table to the left and eases himself down with a happy sounding sigh.

“Don't mind me while I sort myself out,” he smiles as he leans down to his good leg and unlaces his sneaker. He tugs it off and then leans down more awkwardly to do the same to the right. I could offer to help but he does it himself every day, I don't need to push the limits. He tugs that off too and kicks them off to the side, shifting back against the leather.

He pats the seat next to him and I join him, beer in hand.

“This is pretty cool, look.”

He reaches to the side of the sofa and presses a button that has mechanics whirring. The footrest raises up slightly higher than the seat itself and the back of the sofa leans forward just slightly for a more comfortable position.

“That _is_ cool.”

“Aye, cost a hell of a lot but I've had my use out it already. Can't be arsed with a separate stool that I have to drag around the place.”

I kick my own shoes off and then pull my legs up onto the sofa.

He presses another button and the bottom raises where I'm sitting too and it makes me smile.

“All of the seats do the same.”

I shift position and stretch my legs out, shivering at the contact of my legs with the cool leather.

“Warms up quickly, gorgeous. C'mere.”

He wraps his arm around my shoulders and I snuggle against him, wrapping my hands around his arm and squeezing. I'm on his bad side, his braced knee close to my legs. I look up from our feet and smile as we catch each others gazes.

“Feels good already,” he takes a sip of his beer, “this is nice, thank you for coming over.”

“You don't need to thank me.”

“Aye, I know. Jus' want you to know that you bein' here makes me really damn happy.”

“I'm happy to _be_ here, Sandor.”

His name rolling off my tongue still feels unfamiliar but amazing at the same time. It's such an usual name and it suits him; he's already unique in more ways than just his name, but it just adds another layer of individuality. It's a bit like me, really. I've never met another Sansa.

“Never had a woman here with me. I used to live further away from FSU but I had a bad time with my knee a couple of years ago, had surgery again and it didn't help an ounce so after recovery I moved up here just in case I needed to be closer to work.”

“How many times have you had surgery?”

“Too many times to count, sweetheart.”

If he doesn't want to talk about it I know that he won't.

“Far too many when it first happened and a couple'a times since. Occasionally my doctors will call me in for a review and they have a brilliant idea that never quite comes into fruition. The newest offer on the table is a full knee replacement but I just don't want to go through that.”

“That's a pretty major surgery.” I look down at his leg again and frown.

“Aye, it is. Would take me off my feet for months and recovery is even longer. I don't want to be away from work for that long again. I know it's not great now but there are no guarantees with any of it.”

I reach across to his shorts and run my hand along the side of his knee where the metal struts hold everything securely in place. His hand squeezes my shoulder where it lays and I pull my hand back.

“You can do that, gorgeous. You can touch anywhere you please – it doesn't hurt from bein' touched or anything.”

I nod and move my hand back.

“Can I see?”

I just want to know what it all looks like so there are no surprises later on. I can't imagine that it looks too horrible; surgical scars are usually controlled and neat and whilst I know there are lots of them, I know it won't put me off how incredible he is.

“Aye, I could do with restin' up without this on.”

He reaches down and tugs up his shorts, exposing the whole brace from calf to thigh. It's clean and purposeful and I'm glad that it at least helps a little. I watch as he unfastens the velco and secures it back against itself and he glances over at me and chuckles nervously.

“I'm interested,” I reply softly and reach down to the brace, waiting for his affirmative nod before I repeat the motion with the velcro closes to his knee. He finishes the last two and then uses his hands to lift his knee away from the brace and set it back down. He tucks it down the other side of the sofa and then motions towards it.

I bite down on my lip as I glance over the offending joint. The scars do indeed mark a criss-crossing journey of surgery, but none of them are scary or offensive.

“Which one was the first?”

“This one,” Sandor draws a line down his knee on top of the thickest and longest scar. It runs from the bottom of his knee to just above. “The two either side were from other attempts at giving me more range of motion and less pain.”

I nod and reach my own hand over. I rest my fingers against the side of his thigh and run them softly against the hairs that lay there.

“This leg's got a lot of muscle wastage,” he pulls up the shorts on the other side and shows the notable difference. “I have a bunch of exercises I'm supposed to do.”

“Don't you?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugs and sips again from the bottle. “It hurts though, leaves me sore after.”

I nod in understanding and stroke his leg again. His hairs are soft under my touch and I can feel that his leg isn't quite as muscled as the other, but _god_. I don't even care about any of it. He's perfectly imperfect, and I'm happy with that.

“I'll help you however I can,” I offer softly and tilt my head to kiss his shoulder.

He smiles and nods, squeezing me closer. “Aye, beautiful. I know you will. I don't ever wanna be a burden on anybody.”

“You're not. Nobody should make you feel that you are.”

“Gods, Sansa.” He shakes his head, “you're too good to be true, d'ya know that?”

I shrug and it makes him chuckle again.

“You are. Trust me. Stunningly beautiful and sweeter than anybody I've ever met.”

His words make me blush deeply and I hide my face against him.

“Not as sweet as you.”

“I told you; I'm still practising. _Fuck_ , this is just...” he shakes his head incredulously. “We should, uh - what do you wanna do? Watch a movie?”

I don't really want to watch a movie. I don't want to pay my attention to anything other than him. It could be background noise, maybe.

I bite down on my lower lip and he looks down at me, his own gaze soft and endearing. He has the most expressive grey eyes that I've ever seen, and they look even darker in the dull light of his home.

“I don't mind,” I respond to his question, “you can put something on if you'd like.”

“Aye, just somethin' in the background, gorgeous. I'm not gonna make you sit through a three hour thriller mind.”

I laugh and nod in agreement, taking another sip from my beer which I have resting between my thighs. He turns on the television set and I let my fingers shit from his damaged knee to his thigh, a soft sigh emitting from him so I know it's okay to keep touching.

He chooses a channel that I honestly pay no attention to and I finish my beer before passing it over to him to set down.

“Wild night, huh?”

I poke him softly in the ribs for his efforts.

“Ow,” he laughs and squeezes me closer. “I'm just kidding, gorgeous. This is perfect.”

“It is.”

As I lay my head against him I feel the ripple of muscle as he breathes. “You feel _so good_.”

“I try to work out as much as I can. I hit the gym in the sports block out of hours; pretty good at lifting dead weights.”

“I can tell,” I stretch my hand across to his bicep and slide up to his shoulder to feel the heavy-set muscle underneath. I feel him flex and I squeeze softly. “Very nice.”

“Glad you approve, sweetheart. I like working out, it clears my head.”

“My art does the same.”

“Shit,” he murmurs quietly, “I'm not keeping you from anything am I? Study-wise?”

I shake my head and kiss his bicep as I pull my hand back.

“It's Friday night, Sandor. Even _I_ take a break sometimes. I don't have any study pieces due in until next month and I tend to finish without having to work on them at home.”

“That's good.”

“I have some commissions that I'll start Sunday. But until then, I'm yours.”

His breath hitches and I smile and lean up to press a kiss across his soft lips, feeling his beard against my cheek. I enjoy the feeling; it's natural and _rough_ in all the best ways.

“That sounds nice. Me being yours.”

He has a way of saying these things that tugs at my heartstrings at the fact that he hasn't _had_ anybody to his for a long time. I want to give him that. I want to be someone who he is excited to see and spend time with; someone to give him something else to think about other than the stresses of work and the discomfort of his injury.

“I'm here.”

“Aye, you are, sweetheart. Oh, and for the record?”

I nod.

“You feel really good as well. You have the softest skin, and the prettiest hair...”

He brushes strands of my hair away from my face and watches with his head tilted as the strands fall back down to frame my jaw.

I bite down on my lip and he brushes the pad of his large thumb over the swell of my mouth.

“Bloody stunning.”

I want to tell him how incredible I think he is; how I love the hair on his chest, his smile and even the scars across his knee that make him who he is. Of course I'd take it all away in a heartbeat but as that will never be possible, I need him to know that he should and will be loved for the way he is. I wonder when we'll first tell each other that we love each other?

I already feel that level of connection building up between us, but I won't utter the words until the time is right; perhaps when he does first.

I smile at my own thoughts and look up at him, where our gazes meet.

“How you doin', sweetheart?”

“Amazing. Do you want another beer?”

He glances to the empty bottles then nods.

“Aye, that'd be nice if ya don't mind.”

“Of course not.”

I'd do _anything_ ; fetching a beer is a drop in the ocean.

I head back to the kitchen and take out another two bottles, opening them on the wall like he did. I pause at the fridge and scan the magnets he has there, a couple from FSU and one from New Jersery and Hawaii. I imagine Sandor on vacation and smile as I head back. He looks comfortable all stretched out on his sofa and I pass him a beer as soon as I'm close enough.

“Perfect.”

I don't sit back down straight away, instead I half-sit on the arm of the sofa next to his good side, sliding my arm around his shoulders. He slips his arm around my waist too and lets out a soft sigh of happiness.

“Just to let you know, gorgeous,” he murmurs, “I'll never be offended if you tell me to get my own ass up to do stuff. I have to do that most've the time anyway.”

“I know. Just giving you a break.” I smile as he tugs me closer.

“I appreciate it, thank you.”

I have no idea how I want the evening to pan out. Part of me – no, wait, a _lot_ of me wants to be in Sandor's bed already where hopefully one thing would quickly lead to another, but I know if we went to bed now we'd be unlikely to get up again and that would mean no food and going to sleep super early. Both of which would undoubtedly be no fun in the morning.

"I want to try something," Sandor speaks softly as he sets his beer down and shifts against the sofa to get more comfortable.  
  
I have no clue what he is referring to so I nod and take another sip of my own drink, watching him to glean an understanding of what it is that he means. I'll likely agree to absolutely anything he suggests and my mind is very much wide open.  
  
He uncurls his arm from my shoulders and glances pointedly down at his bad knee. I follow his motion and nod, shifting myself against him so I can be clear of what he's indicating.  
  
"I need to try an' do my exercises far more often than I do. A lot of them are easier with somebody else to offer a hand."  
  
He tilts his head towards me and I nod instantly.  
  
"Of course. Anything you need help with, I'm here."  
  
"I just want to try, gorgeous."  
  
I keep my gaze on his leg and hands as he rubs out the muscles of his thigh, stretching his hand over his damaged joint tentatively. I'd like to do that for him sometime; just test out the muscles and pain there until I'm familiar enough with it all to know just how far to push and when to very much stop.  
  
"It might be easier in the morning,” I speak softly, letting my hand move towards his and brushing my fingers against his. “After a shower, maybe."  
  
I don't want him to be in pain tonight. I feel so comfortable and relaxed and I want him to be the same.  
  
"Aye, don't want to go too hard.” He curls his fingers against mine and squeezes softly. “Just want to check how this is doin' and don't want to get stuck on my own with a locked knee or muscle cramps."

“Does that usually happen?”

“Aye.” Sandor chuckles, “s'not fun.”  
  
"What do you want me to do?"  
  
"I'm just gonna see how far I can bend it. Might ask you to hold it if I can get it far enough."  
  
I nod and brush my hand against his leg again and he takes both of his hands and slowly guides his knee upwards. It bends almost naturally until it hits twenty or thirty degrees, then as his heel pulls back he grunts.  
  
"Here, hold it now."  
  
I carefully support his knee underneath as he drags it up a little more which I follow with my grasp.  
  
"S'where I start to struggle," he speaks quietly and pauses with a hiss of pain as his range of motion clearly ends. "See if you can bend it just a bit more."  
  
I bite down on my lip and push his range safely until he starts to hold his breath and I can tell that it's starting to hurt on the side of too much.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, that's enough."  
  
I guide his leg as he lowers it back down.  
  
"Fuckin' thing."  
  
He looks down with distaste and then glances towards me with a sad smile.  
  
"This is how far it goes without assistance."  
  
The muscles in his thigh tense and his knee bends but barely.  
  
"The ligaments got shredded so badly that they don't work cohesively with the muscle now. When I have the pressure of my weight when walking and the brace it helps some. Like this it's pretty damn useless."  
  
I slide my arm behind him, letting my fingers hitch up his shirt and rest against his lower back.  
  
"As long as you know that I don't mind."  
  
He tilts his head towards me and raises an eyebrow.  
  
"If it's sore, I'll help. If it's a bad day just tell me and we can make it work. If you have to use your cane or crutches it doesn't matter, I'll still think you're sexy as hell."  
  
"Sansa."  
  
His voice is a low growl and he turns quickly to cup my face and drag me towards him.  
  
"Kneel here, gorgeous."  
  
He pats the sofa and I climb over until I'm straddling his hips. I keep my weight forward, leaning a hand against his shoulder and the smile he gives me makes my stomach flutter.  
  
He guides our lips together and we kiss deeply, a hand of his running over my back, causing my skin to tingle and my body to ache for him.  
  
"Nobody has ever been so kind."  
  
"I will be," I shift my hips and feel him standing proud beneath me, "I promise."  
  
"Aye." He shifts his hips too and lets out another one of those incredible moans. "I won't let it get in the way of anythin' you ever want us to do. Have to make adaptations but - fuck, Sansa."  
  
I roll my hips downwards again, drawing myself over him and feeling the length of him drag across my panties. It makes him gasp and I pause, lowering until we are pressed together tightly.  
  
"I want you."  
  
His words make me blush but gods - _I_ want him too.


	6. Chapter Six

I pull up my dress to expose the lacy bra and underwear that lay underneath. I'm never usually too concerned about how I look beneath my clothes but having a reason to actually care is the most amazing feeling. I'm certain Sandor wouldn't be concerned about my underwear but as he moans again I keep our gazes locked as I unfasten my bra and let it slip away.

Sandor's first glances are at my tattoo and he gives a lopsided smile as he brushes the pad of his thumb over the ink which makes me shudder.  
  
"Suits you," he murmurs and pulls my arm gently to press a kiss over my skin.

  
He then lets his gaze shift and I bite my lip as he traces his hand, and lips, across my collarbone until he pulls back.  
  
He takes me in fully, eyes widening as he tentatively runs a finger over the swell of my breast, across my hardened nipple to my smooth stomach underneath.  
  
I ease down again and let our hips bump, eliciting gasp before I reach for his sweater and unzip it with an attempt to help to pull it off as as he lifts his arms. He has a wife beater underneath and that comes off too, exposing his heavily muscled and hair-covered torso.  
  
I run my hand from his chest to his shoulder, fingers tangling in the hairs with a smile.  
  
"Hope you don't mind the natural look, gorgeous."  
  
"I love it."

I press a kiss to his shoulder, my body shifting against him with the movement. "I'd like to draw you sometime like this."  
  
"You can draw me like a French girl anytime you'd like.”  
  
He makes me laugh loudly and I bat his shoulder playfully in response.  
  
He grins back and tugs me down for another deep kiss, my breasts against him as he draws an arm around me and holds me tightly.  
  
"I really want you, Sansa."  
  
Every inch of my body aching for him; every nerve ending alight.  
  
"I want you too."  
  
Mindful of his bad leg with every movement, I pull off my panties help him shimmy his down far enough for his cock to spring free.  
  
Memories of the morning flood back and I catch and hold his gaze as I grind against him again, the wetness of both of us causing him to slide against me with a moan.  
  
"So bloody stunning." He groans loudly, "want to be inside you."

I nod and position myself so that I can easily take him within me.

“Protection,” he murmurs, and fumbles in the pocket of his shorts until he pulls out his wallet and within it, a silver foil packet.

“Prepared,” I smile softly and watch as he manoeuvres the protection over himself.

“Not usually, not since I met you. Want us to be safe.”

I nod; he's so adorable and I believe him entirely. I reach down and stroke his balls, eliciting another deep moan, and then I slide over him carefully.

He stretches me wide but it's not uncomfortable and I take it as slowly as I need to. With me on top like this he's giving over all control to me, and it's amazing. He feels so good, and his hands over my back and then the swell of my butt feel so perfect.

“Fuck,” he gasps, “so tight, Sansa. Feels amazing.”

I'm spurred on by his rough tone and I ease myself over him deeper, almost taking all of him inside of me until I feel him make connection deep inside and I know I can't take any more. I start up a rocking motion after that, rising and falling and gasping myself each time.

I have my hands on his shoulders, my fingers curled tightly and I'm certain my fingernails must be leaving marks but he doesn't flinch away, only drags me closer.

"That's perfect for me, gorgeous,” Sandor whispers, his mouth finding my neck and littering kisses between his words, “on top, in control – so amazing. So – _fuck_.”

I grin and start to move quicker, making sure I keep all the movement away from his bad leg. He squeezes my butt firmly and I gasp, and he rubs the spot with his hand.

“You look beautiful, so beautiful.” His other hand brushes over my breasts, his finger span almost covering both of them as he grazes one nipple and it ricochets through my body.

Sex has _never_ felt like this. Nobody I have ever been with has been so solid, firm and sure beneath me. Nobody has certainly been so _big_ , and my eyes have well and truly been opened.

“Feels amazing too,” I murmur back. I'm starting to get breathless and I can feel the rise of my own imminent orgasm. “Sandor, I'm so close.”

“Ride it, babe. Take as much of me as you need, I'm almost breaking for you, will be done as soon as you are.”

I nod and quicken the pace, then drop it slower and take Sandor deep, all the way inside.

My breathing hitches and so does his, and I'm almost over the edge.

“ _Sandor_.” I gasp and claw at his shoulders even more.

“Keep going, gorgeous. I'm there with you, I promise – _gods_.”

I nod and even as my eyes slam shut with the intensity of my body releasing, I ride him deep until I feel him stuttering beneath me too.

His breathing hitches and he moans even louder; his orgasm seems to go on forever and by the time he is done, I am weak and loose against him.

“Fucking hell, Sansa,” he murmurs as soon as his breath his back. He pulls me close and I wrap my arms around him, our bodies pressed tight and his softening dick still inside of me. I flex my muscles inside of me and he lets out a low moan. “So _fucking_ good.”

I nod against him and kiss his shoulder and then his neck.

“Please stay here forever.”

I smile and tilt my face so I can look up at him. He has a fine sheen of perspiration on his brow and his face is flushed – as I know mine is too.

“I will,” I smile and he smiles back and shakes his head incredulously.

“No word of a lie, gorgeous,” he kisses my hair, “that was the best it's ever felt.”

“I feel the same, Sandor. That was just...”

I shake my head, not quite sure what the word for it was.

“I know. There's somethin' about you bein' on top of me. S'different. Like you knew exactly how to move. How to draw me out perfectly.”

He's so complimentary and sweet, I just blush and duck my head against him again.

“I shouldn't talk about other women while you're this fucking close to me, gorgeous, but a lot of them, they jus' don't understand how intimate it is to be on top like this. They see that I ain't gonna be thrusting into them any time soon and think it's a weakness, but _fuck_.”

“ _F_ _uck them_ , Sandor.”

He's surprised by my use of his language and it elicits a chuckle.

“If they don't want to give you a chance then they don't deserve to understand how incredible it is. How incredible _you_ are.”

“Aye,” he kisses my hair again. “Their loss, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

I start to feel his seed spilling down between my legs and I shift a little. With the time spent laying enjoying the afterglow he had softened inside of me and it must have caused the protection to slip - that or he just filled it so much there was no other choice for the thick liquid to have seeped out of the protective sheath. 

It's no drama - though it always feels a little gross to have the sensation of such things leaking out of my body, I'm a sensible girl. I take my own precautions too.

“Perhaps we should get cleaned up.”

“I don't want you to move.” He holds me tightly and I laugh against him.

“You can hold me all night, I promise.”

He smiles, shifts to kiss my lips and then releases his grip.

“You're right. But I'm keeping you to that.”

“You can.” I smile and lift myself up, feeling him slide out of me fully and his spilled come leave me too, the used protection sliding off him too with the motion, leaving damp patches over his crotch and probably the sofa too. I'll pick it up later - don't want to be leaving our evidence everywhere.

“Here,” Sandor reaches for his wife beater and passes it over to me so I can clean my legs a little before I stand.

I laugh and swipe the material over myself before tossing it back to him, and as I awkwardly leave the sofa, he dabs himself too.

“Hey, gorgeous,”

I look over at him, still completely naked, and smile.

“Can you open the drawer over there by the lamp for me?”

I bend over by said drawer and open it, then look back over at him.

“You just wanna see me bend over.”

“It _is_ an incredible sight, aye. There are a couple of braces in there though, I'm not askin' you to do it just for my pleasure.”

“I believe you. Which do you want?”

There were indeed braces in there, all smaller than the ones he wears during the day but still with range of motion locking devices and metal structures that will clearly offer support.

“There's one with green on the straps, aye.” He nods as I take it out and bring it over. “Perfect, thanks.”

“It's a lot smaller than your other one.”

“Aye,” he lifts his knee with a grunt and straps himself up. “This has some compression to it, helps with the swelling whilst still keeping it locked up good.”

I nod and skim my hand over it after he's done.

“I need to get my ass up to use the bathroom,” he sighs exaggeratedly and I reach for my dress, sliding it back over my head sans underwear. “We should look at my food menus too, order somethin' before it gets late.”

I nod and watch as he hits the button on the side of the sofa and it lowers the foot rest back to it's usual position. He keeps his knee stretched out and turns the dial on the side, flexing it a couple of times before reaching out.

“Can I have a hand?”

“Always.” I tug him up and feel him actually use my weight this time, and he grunts as he stands. He shakes out his leg and tests it out, but before he steps away he pulls me close for a real hug and kisses the top of my head.

“Thank you, beautiful. Havin' you here makes me so fucking happy.”

I can imagine that he hasn't been completely, truly happy for a long time. Sure he's had his work and the team, but that surely brings peaks and troughs in happiness and on bad days if all he's had is his own company then it's undeniable that it would be miserable at times.

“I want you to be happy,” I murmur as I hold him close and then release him as he shifts his weight again.

“Believe me, I am.” He smiles and stands unmoving for a couple of seconds before he pulls away. “Well, now you get to see me awkwardly limping around my apartment.”

I bite down on my lip as he takes a step, and it's not _that_ bad. He's clearly putting less weight on his bad side and it causes a more pronounced limp, but if he really couldn't manage without the larger brace then I imagine he would just leave it on, or use his cane.

After a few more steps he gets into a better rhythm too, but he does lean against the door frame as he crosses down the hall.

I follow him, passing his bedroom on the right and another shut door on the left before he reaches the bathroom at the end.

He leaves the bathroom door open as he relieves himself and I don't watch but the sound of his pee is loud, as is the sigh of satisfaction. I peek inside as he flushes and I notice that the bathroom is a wet room, with a large shower area to the side and a toilet and sink the other.

“I like this bathroom.” He smiles, running his hand over the tiles as he steps away from the toilet. “There used to be a bath in here but fuck that, I'd be stuck for days.”

I can't help but laugh and he looks at me with an amused expression.

“S'that an amusing idea, gorgeous?”

“No!” I exclaim and laugh as his arms wind around me. “That'd be awful, Sandor.”

“Luckily I got it tore out before I had a chance to get stuck.”

“I have a bath at my place,” I offer with a laugh, “maybe you can get stuck there instead.”

“You mean you wouldn't help me get out?”

I shake my head, unable to stop laughing.

“Here I was thinkin' you were the sweetest thing, an' here you are, planning my demise.”

He is grinning, lines pulling at the corners of his eyes from how wide his smile is.

“I'd _definitely_ help you out of my bathtub, Sandor.”

“Thank you, my sweetheart. Wish I could throw you over my shoulder and take you to bed for bein' mean to me.”

I poke out my tongue and he chuckles again.

“We need to order food,” I remind him, “and I might try some of that wine you bought me.”

“Aye, let's go do that, gorgeous. Tryin' to throw you over my shoulder can wait.”

“I'll let you practice that one.”

I link my hand in his and he squeezes, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand. His hallway isn't really wide enough for us walking alongside each other but we make it work and it's only a matter of moments before we're back in the kitchen.

“Grab the wine, beautiful. The menus are here somewhere.”

He opens a drawer and pulls out a handful of flyers.

“What d'ya want? Pizza? Burgers? Chicken?”

His eyes definitely light up as he mentions chicken, and I shrug as I pull the cap. I've already spotted the glasses in the cupboard near the oven

“I'm easy.” I smile and bring the bottle and a glass over to the table. “Beer?”

“Aye, thank you beautiful.”

I open the cap on that too and leave it on the table for him, then lean over the menus that he has laid on the counter.

“You choose.”

He drags out a chair and eases himself down, and I stand behind him and wrap my arm around his chest, resting my head on his shoulder.

He smiles and tilts his head towards me then picks up one of the flyers.

“D'ya like tacos? Mexican?”

“I do like tacos.” I nod against him and inhale the scent of his aftershave and shampoo. I imagine washing his hair sometime, perhaps in his wet room or even my tub. My tub is quite small, realistically, and it's low to the ground. As much as I can offer a hand to pull him up from a sofa, I doubt I'd be able to actually lift him from almost the ground. “You smell so good.”

Smelling him almost puts me in a trance, and I close my eyes and smile. He brings a hand up to cover mine and links our fingers together.

“So fucking cute.”

I keep up my inhalation for a moment before snapping myself back to reality.

“Tacos sound perfect.”

“Aye, I'll order. Any preferences?”

“Lots of guacamole.”

He chuckles and pulls out his cell phone from his pocket.

“Before you do that, take a picture of us.”

He raises an eyebrow and holds up the phone in the most unflattering angle.

“Nu-uh, here.” I reach for it and he passes it over, where I hold it at a much better height and distance and snap a bunch of photos, some smiling and a couple at the end pressing my lips to Sandor's cheek. I scan through them and he looks adorable; bemused but so handsome. I look a little messy, my hair not quite as perfect as it had this morning and my lips lacking moisture from all of the kissing, but _yeah_. I love them.

I quickly send them all over to me on twitter and grin when he scans through them and clears his throat.

“You're far better at taking these than I am.”

“I practice.” I smile and keep my hold on him as he finds the number for the taco delivery.

He calls up and orders a mixed taco set with beef brisket, chicken and fish tacos with two extra sides of guacamole, sour cream and jalapenos. He orders mexican rice and a salad bowl and passes over his card details over the phone. When he hangs up I offer to pay my share and he refuses.

“Never lettin' you pay for anythin', gorgeous.”

I roll my eyes but _okay,_ I'm not going to argue. If it makes him happy then I won't disagree. He sets his phone down and smiles over his shoulder towards me once more.

“Cheers,” he murmurs, raising his beer, and I reach my glass from the table and clink it with his bottle.


End file.
